Poetry

Hurdling in between love and fate,
my dear love sits in order to contemplate.
Her destiny awaits in chariots of gold,
but is this a destiny already fortold?

For does the white widow,
recognise and know its own shadow?
As it so elegantly creates, 
a milkyway web of doom.

Who knew that creation,
would be the cause of such destruction,
and yet the creature does not realise,
that it is under divine instruction!

But alas the fairytale does not end here
nor there
or anywhere in between.

For perhaps there were to be a library 
that only a secret key could unlock.
Would a countess such as yourself
be prepared to stop the time, before the time becomes a clock?

What would thee do with the words,
that could not be spoken by profane?!
And yet the ants on the mould hill,
still think those ants with wings insane!

Oh look how they fly,
but why would they want to be in the sky?
When the ants have so much earth down there,
look at the mould they have been building,
nearly all of there ancestors lives,
So then why would they want wings,
when they can have numerous ant wives?

But little did the ants understand
that one day their mould mountain of dirt
would be the main soul reason
for hundred of years of hurt

and when the earth has crumbled
and the ants have no home, once more
the only thing they will have left to beg for
Is for wings that will now seem to allure!

So now the ants with wings
become like angels,
in which plays the harp and sings!

If only the angels were angles,
in which the ants could bend too once more, 
then it would be there own reflection, 
that they could truly adore!

But now they feel alone,
inadequate to say the least,
the years of building up to save the earth
has left them with an empty feast

and so they pray to the ant angels
in hope of another chance
for there ancestors never believed in them
and now they are left with a danceless dance!

If only they did not have so much attachment
to the ground beneath there little ant feet,
For see how the air has changed now -
Defeat! defeat! defeat!

(Dost thou not strive? Ist thou not alive??)